Free The Horsemasters by Joan Wolf Page B

be dangerous.” He looked at her sternly. “A bull in rut is an evil-tempered creature, Morna.”
    “I thought the initiates of the Red Deer were men, not boys,” Morna said. “Are you afraid?” And she let her gaze trail slowly from one young male face to the next, a look of amusement was in her eyes.
    “Of course we are not afraid!” Adun blustered. He was seconded loudly by the rest of the boys.
    Morna’s eyes came to Ronan and stopped. “I have always been told that buffalo bulls travel alone during the rutting season in search of cows unattended by a male,” she said. “I am thinking we will have a better chance of finding the bull if we spread out rather than keep together in one pack.”
    Dana, a pretty blue-eyed girl, reached out to take Tyr’s hand. “Perhaps Morna is right,” she said softly. “Perhaps we should split up. We can always climb a tree if we get into trouble with the bull.”
    Tyr looked at her; then he looked at Ronan and raised his eyebrows. Ronan’s mouth tightened, but he shrugged his shoulders, effectively leaving the decision up to the group.
    They decided to split up into couples, rutting being on the minds of more than the buffalo on this hazy autumn afternoon.
    To everyone’s surprise, Morna went with Ronan. This she managed by the simple expedient of announcing that she would be his partner, a decision that obviously dismayed Iva and Cala as well as several of the boys who had hoped to go with Morna. Ronan gave his sister a single hard look, but made no comment.
    “If you locate the bull, give the tribe’s hunting call,” he said to the others; then he lifted his spear and turned purposefully into the forest. Morna followed.
    She did not try to talk to him. Morna had never been a great one for talking. She followed after him, watching in silence the buckskin-clad back, slim hips, long legs and midnight black braid which were all she could see of him at present. Their footfalls made no noise on the forest path.
    The air was heavy, almost sultry. From somewhere deep in the forest a cave hyena screeched. Birds flew up into the air, crying in alarm. Morna saw the shadow of a deer flit through the deeper part of the woods. Ronan continued to push on through the trees until he had reached the game trail he was aiming for.
    The hazy sun spilled through the trees onto the beaten dirt of the narrow game trail, and the boy and girl began to walk along it on silent moccasined feet. The smell of pine was heavy in the unusually warm autumn air. Small creatures scurried in the undergrowth, and overhead a golden bird circled lazily above the treetops.
    Abruptly, the hazy peace of the afternoon was ripped apart by an angry bellow. Then came crashing noises that sounded alarmingly close. Through the screen of thin birch and oak and pine, Morna suddenly saw a massive black shape…saw great curving horns…and the smell of buffalo overpowered the fragrant scent of the pines.
    “Ronan,” Morna said urgently, and bumped into him. He had stopped, turned toward the buffalo, and was lifting his spear. He did not look at her, but said calmly, “Get up a tree, Morna. That bull is too close.”
    Morna stared toward the bull, who was striding along aggressively at a much faster gait than the normal lazy amble of the buffalo. As she watched, he hooked a small tree with one of his horns, easily breaking its fragile trunk.
    Morna’s breath caught. Ronan still had his spear in his hand, and she could see that the screen of trees made getting off a clear throw impossible.
    “Get up a tree,” Ronan repeated.
    “Na,” Morna said. “I will back you up.” She stood by his side and raised her own spear to her shoulder.
    As the two hunters watched through the impeding screen of trees, the great bull halted, lowered his head to the ground, and sniffed intently. Then, with great deliberation, he urinated on the spot he had been sniffing. Next he knelt and rubbed his head and horns in the area he had